Of Ponies and Edelweiss

Valentine

A low, muffled thump echoed in Roderich's dozing mind, causing him to wake just enough to feel the fluffy pillows beneath him and smell the familiar, smooth aroma of coffee wafting from the kitchen. He waited, drowsily, on the edge of consciousness, for another thump. Not hearing one, he sighed quietly to himself, and drifted easily back to sleep. The next bang was a little louder, and a little harder to ignore. Roderich reluctantly cracked open an eyelid, taking in the muted sunlight creeping through the frost-covered windows. The dull thuds gradually grew louder until Roderich had no choice but to stir languidly, stretch slowly in the soft, warm bed, and wonder what Gilbert could possibly be doing at this time of the morning to make so much blasted noise. Roderich yawned sleepily and debated whether to stay where he was, or to find and berate his frustratingly loud boyfriend. He was just deciding on the former when...

"Morning, Roddy, baby!"

Roderich groaned. Sleeping in was a thing of the past since Gilbert Beilschmidt had barrelled into his life three years earlier. Roderich pushed himself up, reached for his glasses from the bedside table, and blinked incredulously. He was immediately certain he was still asleep and dreaming. Because Gilbert stood at the foot of the bed, grinning proudly, holding a tray with a coffee pot and mug, a small selection of pastries, and a single red rose. Roderich rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, but the remarkable vision remained the same. When he finally convinced himself he was not dreaming, Roderich narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "All right, what did you do?"

Gilbert laughed and carried the tray towards him. "Can't I bring breakfast to my boyfriend in bed without a reason?"

"Not really, no." Roderich sat back against the pillows, fully awake now as Gilbert placed the tray on the bedside table.

"In that case, I'll give you one." With wild, messy hair, stubble on his face, and wearing nothing but his Tweety Bird pyjama pants, Gilbert looked both dishevelled and annoyingly gorgeous as he held out the rose. "It's Valentine's Day, baby!"

Oh. Ohhh... Roderich immediately felt guilty. He had been so busy rehearsing for his next recital in Toronto that he'd completely forgotten. Yet, regardless of the day, Gilbert bringing him breakfast in bed was completely unexpected. "Oh, well... thank you, that's..." Roderich took the rose and gave it a puzzled glance. "...surprisingly sweet." And Roderich truly was surprised. Gilbert never did things like this; he did not have a romantic bone in his body. Roderich had accepted that long ago.

Gilbert fell heavily onto the bed beside him. "Don't act so shocked, babe, it's coffee and a rose. You'd think I'd proposed or something."

Roderich laughed and accepted Gilbert's messy, forceful, morning-breath scented kiss with only the smallest groan of reluctance. He broke it, however, before things got too out of hand. "Yes, yes, don't get carried away." Roderich leant across Gilbert and reached for a pastry.

"Snobby prude," said Gilbert, but there was no malice in the words. Roderich just put his nose in the air and took a bite of the pastry. It was meltingly delicious.

"Oh... it's one of Francis'."

Gilbert scratched his head a little sheepishly. "Well, I was going to make you French toast, but I thought that would be too much Francis in the morning." Roderich snickered softly. "And then I thought about a Spanish omelette but again, you know, just way too Antonio-inspired, and you know how eggs upset Gilbird. So then I decided on the perfect starter course for the day..." Gilbert grinned and his deep bronze eyes flashed red. "Prussian sausage!"

Roderich furrowed his brows and looked back over at the tray. "But there's no food but the pastries..."

Gilbert winked. "I wasn't talking about food, baby."